


Their Song

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: High Octane Flirting, M/M, Modern AU, mochi is the gayest candy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 12:22:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14568921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: Tooru's regular candy run of shame to the store doesn't go at all as he plans, thanks to a strange-but-captivating bakery guy who happens to ride the same bus.





	Their Song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [v_larr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_larr/gifts).



> This is gay fluff. There is nothing else in here but gay ass fluff.

Tooru hums a mindless tune as he lingers a little longer than he should in the confection aisle of his usual grocery store. More than a few boxes of things he shouldn’t be eating make their way into his basket, and he moves on to the produce section to hide his splurge purchases at least for a little while

The store is nearly empty, with closing time nearly at hand, so Tooru finishes his shopping and heads toward the checkouts once he hears the first closing announcement. However, it isn’t until he’s rounding past the bakery section that he catches an unusual motion out of the corner of his eye.

Behind the bakery counter, Tooru spies something — or rather  _ someone  _ — with his head thrown back and a look of sheer joy on his face as he dips the mop in his hands like a dancing partner. At this moment, Tooru’s eyes widen when he realized the song he has been humming is the same as the one playing on the overhead, and is also being sung by this silver-blond angel of a man. 

He’s about Tooru’s age, about half a head shorter with a slim build. His limbs move with fluid grace when he twirls his mop, unaware that he has an audience, and his honeyed voice flows over Tooru. Setting down his basket, Tooru closes the distance to the display case and leans against it to observe up close. There is something refreshing about his abandon that draws Tooru’s attention and refused to relinquish it.

Tooru finally recognizes the song: an old one that’s a staple at every wedding reception and reality show featuring ballroom dancing. He can’t remember the artist or the name of it, yet the familiar words itch on the tip of his tongue. The song crescendos and moves on into the coda, and with a grin, Tooru sings along with the end of the tune.

The slap of the mop handle hitting the floor punctuates the last note of the song, and Refreshing-kun yelps and gawks at Tooru wide-eyed and jaw slack. His cheeks grow pink, drowning out the dusting of golden freckles littering the bridge of his nose, and he hides his face in his hands. 

“I didn’t know anyone was watching.” His voice is muffled by his palms. “This is a little embarrassing.”

Gravitating toward where Refreshing-kun is cringing behind the cake case, Tooru leans against it and crosses his arms on the top. He pops his chin on his knit fingers and chuckles. “You’re a very good dancer.” He grins at Refreshing-kun and waggles his brows. “No need to be embarrassed. After all, don’t they say you should dance like nobody’s watching?” 

Refreshing-kun lets the fingers shielding his face fall away, and Tooru is surprised to find something else written on his face that is far from embarrassment. He can’t name it and he thinks he kind of likes that. He gives a wry chuckle. “I guess they do.” 

Refreshing-kun directs his gaze toward Tooru’s forgotten shopping basket and nods. “The checkouts close in ten minutes. I’d hate to see you miss out on all the mochi you’re hiding under the broccoli.”

Tooru coughs. “I was pretending I didn’t put that in there.” He straightens and drums his fingers on the top of the case. “It was very nice to meet you, Refreshing-kun.” He cranes his neck to catch a glimpse of Refreshing-kun’s nametag. “Or should I say Koushi-kun.” 

Koushi beams and answers, “Of course it was. I’m delightful.”

As he once again takes his basket and heads for the cash register, Tooru can’t help but think Koushi might be onto something there.

Quickly, Tooru is rung up and reminded of the store’s imminent closing, and he heads for the bus stop in front of the store. He waits on the bench, his bag parked between his feet, and the song from earlier wriggles its way back into his thoughts. He doesn’t realize he’s singing it aloud until he feels someone standing right behind him. “I forgot to mention, you have a very nice voice.”

Tooru finds himself a little short on breath as he murmurs, “Hello again, Koushi-kun.” He pats the bench next to him. “The 405?”

“Yeah.” Koushi drops down next to Tooru with a heavy sigh. He lolls his head to give Tooru a once-over. “You’re going to eat all that mochi in one sitting, aren’t you?”

Nose wrinkling, Tooru pouts. “Am not.” The denial is false even in his own ears. “I might share it.”

“Oh?” Koushi gave him a devilish grin. “Anyone  _ special _ ?”

Tooru snorts and rolls his eyes. “Certainly not. Just Iwa-chan.” He tugs his jacket tighter around himself to ward away a cold gust of November wind. “He doesn’t count.”

“Unfortunate for him.” Koushi lightly bumped his shoulder against Tooru’s. “I don’t think I ever caught your name, Stranger-kun.”

With a harrumph, Tooru returns the gesture. “I guess you didn’t.” He holds out a hand in greeting. “Oikawa Tooru.”

Koushi reciprocates with a grip strength belying his lean musculature. “Sugawara. Most people call me Suga.”

Something deflates inside Tooru at that statement. “Then Suga-kun it is, then.”

Koushi meets his gaze and Tooru almost shivers at the intensity in those warm brown eyes. “Somehow, I don’t think you’re most people.”

Tooru stands and slips the straps of his grocery bag over his shoulder. “Kou-chan, then?”

Koushi follows suit, a smile lingering on his lips as the bus pulls up to the curb. Tooru observes Koushi pick a seat toward the front but not all the way, and he smirks as he sits directly beside him despite the plethora of room on the bus. “It seems like there’s nowhere else for me to sit.”

“Oh?” Koushi’s eyes scan the vacant bus and nods. “You’re correct. Definitely nowhere else.”

Their eyes lock as the bus lurches into motion, and Tooru wrings the handles of his bag to ward off the sweat beginning to sprout. Nearly three blocks pass under the cloak of this charged silence before Tooru recalls Koushi’s words from before. His hand dives into the bag and he retrieves one of the boxes of mochi tucked at the bottom.

Holding it out in front of him, Tooru says, “You know, you’re right. I think these are meant to be shared.” He tears into the box without preamble and puts the tray on the seat between them. Tooru picks one out and holds it up to Koushi. “Does Kou-chan like matcha?”

“Kou-chan loves matcha.” Koushi snares the proffered piece in his teeth and sinks back into the eat, eyes never leaving Tooru as he eats it. When he finishes, he adds, “Kou-chan definitely loves matcha.”

The layer of meaning under Koushi’s words sinks in, and Tooru can’t fight off a smirk. “Kou-chan has excellent taste.”

“I really do.” He takes another piece and bites into it, this time letting his pale lashes flutter and rest on his cheeks in stark contrast with his black eyeliner, and he groans. “So do you. Cheap mochi is never the same.” 

They polish off the rest of the box shortly before the bus stops at Tooru’s usual departure point, and he wants to whine it’s time to exit the bus and leave Koushi behind. He almost runs into one of the grip poles, however, when Koushi is right behind him. Koushi bids the driver a cheery ‘goodnight’ and he steps onto the sidewalk next to a still-stymied Tooru. 

“Fancy meeting you here, Tooru-kun.” He claps Tooru on the shoulder and says, “I was hoping I would see you again. Didn’t think it would be this soon.”

Tooru opens his mouth to reply, but he shrugs in surprise when something cold and wet drifts into his face. He looks up to see the beginnings of a light snowfall and laughs. “Of course it would snow before I got home.”

Koushi doesn’t reply, and when Tooru glances over in curiosity, he swallows hard at the sight of Koushi reaching out for the snowflakes while trying to catch one on his tongue. Tooru fights and loses out to the urge to follow suit, and soon they’re both spinning in dizzying circles 

The breath is punched out of Tooru’s chest when they reel into each other, his arms reaching out to steady Koushi and finding their way to his waist. Koushi’s fingers are curling around the lapels of Tooru’s overcoat, and his tongue darts out to swipe across his bottom lip.

“Did Kou-chan save the last dance for me, or will Mop-kun come and steal you away?” With that, he hums that same song again and tugs Koushi into a slow, rhythmic sway. 

Koushi’s arms drape over Tooru’s shoulders, and he gives a toothy smile. “Tooru-kun is cheesy.”

His face pulling into a cartoonish pout, Tooru sticks out his tongue. “Oikawa-san is a natural born poet, so take that, Kou-chan.”

Koushi throws back his head and laughs, and he dashes a few stray tears of mirth from his eyes. “You are . . . you are something else, Oikawa Tooru.” Their motion stills, their frosted breath mingling together under the soft glow of a streetlamp.

Which of them moves first, Tooru can only speculate (of course it’s him). Their lips brush together, the chill in the air making the shard of warmth that shoots straight through Tooru all the more welcome. Koushi’s fingers tremble when they lightly touch his own lip, and this time, his smile is a soft thing.

Tooru doesn’t even have time to react when Koushi’s other hand dives into Tooru’s coat pocket and takes his phone, cackling as he dodges Tooru’s squawking swats of protest.

When his phone is finally returned, Koushi pecks him on the lips once more and heads in the opposite direction, hands in his pocket as he whistles what Tooru can only refer to now as Their Song. 

He turns the screen on and looks at the last open app, and his breath catches when he spies a new entry in his contact list. Not Sugawara Koushi. Not Suga-chan. Not Kou-chan or even Koushi.

_ Mop-kun’s Ex _ .


End file.
